Shards
by Foureyed-Pufferfish
Summary: A collection of oneshots.  Newest: I remember the date.  January 8th, 2006.   Everything else is a blur.  But no matter what, I know it was my fault.
1. Paper Ghost

__

Welcome to the first of this series of Danny Phantom one-shots. I hope you injoy it.

Also to simply get this out of the way: No matter how many times I watch the series, read the fanfictions and wish I did, I will never own Danny Phantom. Nor will I ever own any other mentioned matterial in the stories exept for my few OCs and the order of the words. However much that disapoints me...

* * *

_The Term "Paper Town" is a __fictitious entry to a map to prevent people stealing the work of mapmakers. This concept was very interesting to me, thus I wrote this._

_If you have yet to read the book _Paper Towns _I suggest you so immediately before my man eating, book-worm of a friend has to track you down for missing out on some wonderful literature._

**

* * *

**

Paper Ghost

A Danny Phantom Fanfiction

Sharp, frost-bitten wind cut accost his already chilled flesh as he glided down the open country road. The ice glazed land yielded no passer-bys, making early mornings the prime time for an undisturbed flight. Mist-like rain flittered down from the darkening cloud cover. Still, despite the weather, all he could see was the road ahead of him; the stretch of land leading him away.

Eventually he would have to stop, he knew, but for now the bitter sweet feeling of leaving kept him moving forward. It's difficult to start a journey, knowing full well what you are leaving behind. But stopping is almost impossible once you start. Leaving the known behind is simply too good to return, no matter how much you want.

Slowing, he glanced at his map, blowing his snow white bangs out of his way to do so.

"There," He mumbled to himself, jamming his finger at the map, crumpling the glossy paper around the small blue dot on the map. Beatosu. No roads lead to his destination, so far from home, thus it was doubtful he would be found. Those that knew not what it was would have called it a ghost town. For why would any active town be so remote, so inaccessible? It was so much more than that, and so much less.

Beatosu was a simple bleep on the map and nothing more. A town planted by publishers as a copyright tool. The town didn't even exist. It was perfect for a by-gone, one-hit-wonder hero only remembered by scraps of newspaper in the dumpsters.

He chuckled to himself at the thought, "A paper town for a paper ghost."

* * *

August 5, 2010

Inspired by the book _Paper Towns_ by John Green

Wow, this is shorter than I though it would be...

Thanks for Reading. Till next time.


	2. Monsters

_It was better in my head…_

* * *

**Monsters**

A Danny Phantom Fanfiction

Muffled cries penetrated the air, barley audible to the human ear. Tears crept down the young woman's cheeks as she was pushed further back into the wall of the ally way. Amity Park was a relatively peaceful town besides the occasional appearance of a ghost. However, tonight it was the haunting of Amity that saved the life of a sole woman on the city streets. For more than just ghosts lurked in the dark.

The dark pulled it's self around her as she sunk to the ground, their hands engulfing her, reaching into her. Her sobs were muffled by the gag clogging her air ways. In her mind, the end was near; they would taker what they wanted then dispose of her, if the gun peeking out of his pocket was anything to go by. So she simply cried for the hope and innocents that left her.

Then, like an angel, he was there to save her, his luminescent arms held out like wings, chasing away her monsters. The darkness it's self seemed to be gone, fled with the beasts who had attacked her. Still all she could muster was to pull herself into a ball, her grimy hair dropping over her face. With that he was there beside her, on icy hand on her heaving shoulders.

"Shhhh," He soothed, his voice echoing oddly in his throat, "It's alright, they won't hurt you anymore, you're okay, I won't leave you alone, you're alright." The ghost repeated the mantra until her hysterics slowed. Finally she looked up into the eyes of her savior.

"Phantom…" She whispered, having no intention of the pale skinned boy to have heard. But his slight nod told her that he had. Oddly he smiled, as if checking once again that she was in control of herself before reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit, pulling forth a cell phone. A strange thought invaded her mind, something she never would have considered at such a moment: Why did a ghost own a cell phone?

"What's you're name?" His eerie voice penetrated her thoughts, "I'm going to call the police."

She sat for a moment staring at him before answering, "Molly Carter." Suddenly her hand flung up to grip his arm when he started to dial. A numbing chill ran down her spine. "You won't leave me alone will you? I don't want to be alone again…" Normally she would have gagged with how pathetic she sounded, but now was not the time.

Phantom put the phone in his lap before giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll stay until the police come, but then I have to go." Once he turned back to his call, Molly could have sworn she heard him mumble something along the lines of: "Be late for my curfew anyway."

A long stillness passed as the town's hero made the call to the police. All the victim in question could do was sit and wait, staring into the haunting darkness. Still the soft glows of his green eyes were comforting. Finally he turned back to her, putting his phone away. She pointed at the cellular device as he did so, looking for a mean of conversation to pull her mind away from its thoughts.

"That the phone you had when you died? Thing's ancient."

He looked slightly hurt and disgusted with the truth behind the statement, "No, and I actually didn't die that long ago, my parents are just cheep."

"You remember your family?" He turned his gaze to the ground, obviously looking for a subject change. His eyes brightened when he found one.

"Are you alright?" He had already asked but seemed to be looking over her for any cuts or scrapes he had missed before.

Molly nodded, "I'm better, just shaken," She clutched her arms and shivered despite the normally warm May weather, "And a bit cold."

"Sorry," His pale skin flushed a slight blue in a ghostly blush, "That's my fault. One of the many downfalls of being a ghost: It's cold wherever I go." He fiddled with the edge of his jump suit before speaking again, "Did you see who…um..." He hesitated, "…did that to you?

The memory came rushing back: hands gripper her wrists, pushing her to the cold stone of the buildings behind her, the hungry look that shone brightly from the men's eyes. It was painful; it wouldn't go away. Finally she was able to croak out a response.

"I didn't know them both, but one of them was my co-worker. He seemed like such a nice guy, so normal. How could he have…have…?" Fresh tears flowed from her eyes. Phantom sighed, standing to look out at the night sky. The weeping girl could barley make out what he said next.

"Monsters are unspectacular and always human." He turned to face her as she realized his feet were now hovering inches from the ground. "The police are almost here, I have to go. Tell them what you told me and you'll never have to see that man again. You'll be alright, don't worry." With one last smile he was gone; he didn't fade but was simply gone. Yet somehow she could still feel his presents, even though she could no longer see him.

"Thank you, Phantom," Her words were lost in the approaching wail of the police sirens. Deep down, beyond the noise and lights, she knew he had heard her. She could feel his tears as he cried for her. For he to, a ghost or not, had lost his innocents that day to the monsters that lurked in the dark.

* * *

August 8, 2010

"Monsters are unspectacular and always human." -W.H. Auden

Thanks for reading. Till next time.


	3. Scream

I felt bad for not posting in a while and since the one I wanted to post is currently away being edited by my english teacher, here's a new one that I wipped up last night (by candle light) just for you guys.

* * *

**Scream  
**A Danny Phantom Fanfiction

A flash lit up the dark lab, revealing every bit of equipment shoved into its corners. Irritated, I pulled my beret further over my eyes. Hadn't we taken enough pictures? Another flash answered my question: obviously not. I sighed and waited patiently. Best to just let Sam get her stupid photos. It had to end eventually, and I might as well snap a few of my own.

True to my luck, as I pulled out my PDA Danny decided he'd had enough. He dropped the jumpsuit he had been holding up (which, frankly, looked similar to a marshmallow costume,) and began arguing with Sam over the matter. A gentle smile graced my lips. Sure they fought, but unknown to either, the other had a mad crush for their best friend. Not that they had ever had the audacity to let me in on this matter, however blatantly obvious it was.

Finally they reached an agreement, or rather, in proper words, Sam won, again. I strode over to my best friend, working hard to conceal my amusement and gave him an understanding pat on the back. He paused, giving me an exasperated smile before continuing to don the jumpsuit Sam had convinced him to wear. Its white spandex, offset by black gloves and boots, was blinding with the lab lights reflecting off its surface. Plus, the large image of his dad's face didn't help its attractiveness. Fortunately, Sam had the same notion, ripping the image off before snapping another picture. This resulted in Danny snatching the camera, placing it on the counter behind him; all the while muttering something about women and obsessions.

With one more quick argument, Danny turned to his parents' latest invention, prepared to enter the dark metallic tunnel. He had explained its schematics and purpose, though vaguely and with uncertainty, earlier that day. All I could recall was the obscene notion that all that steel platting and wiring could open a tear in reality, creating a portal to another world. Beyond that was just senseless babble on his parent's insane ghost theories. This, in all truth, was the biggest load of bull I had ever heard.

Taking timid steps, Danny moved forward, allowing himself to be engulfed by the metal monster. Amazement shown on his features. I could tell he was enjoying himself, despite the nerdy-ness of it. His icy blue eyes were wide, shining with discovery. However, looking back, I would distinctly remember the uneasy feeling that plagued me, bunching my stomach up. But for now, it was simply the thrill of adventure.

Then, like a camera switching settings, the world began to move in slow motion. I watched Danny's foot catch on one of the many loose wires littering the floor. I watched as he placed his hand on the side of the chamber to steady himself. I heard the click of the "on" button and joined Danny as he smiled, realizing he had found the fault in the broken machine. I watched that smile disappear, as the hum of the invention coming to life echoed about the room. Though, through all of this, I could only watch. Even if I had tried, I would have never reached Danny in time. But trying, shouting, even turning away would have been better than simply watching as I did.

My jaw dropped in a soundless scream as Danny, eyes wide with fear, turned, his hand out stretched to us, pleading for help. Help that would not come, for my feet, no matter how much I willed them to move, remained solidly glued to the floor.

Then there was light. The blinding surge of energy singed my eyes, never allowing me to look away. And, with that light, came the screams. There is no way to describe the scream that echoed around the room. They were filled with pain, agony, hurt that I wished with all my heart that I could snatch away from my best friend. They were screams not unlike those of a child, as it takes its first breath of life. But these were bereft of joy, of welcoming. Instead, they were filled with sorrow and passing. In that moment as his screams resonated about the room, drowning out the sound of me vomiting all over my shoes, I knew Danny was dying.

When the noise died away, he stumbled out of the light. His hair was no longer black, but whiter than snow, and a soft glow surrounded his body. I must have dismissed this as the after affects of the electrocution, for I thought nothing of it. The only thing that filled my mind was peace. My friend was standing before me, clear as day, despite my belief that I would never see him again.

Then he looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and my peace was shattered. For it was not blue that met my gaze, but green. No life swirled about in his eyes, like it did in mine or Sam's. The eyes that met mine were the eyes of the deceased. Danny had finished dying, and now stood before me, a memory of a once living boy.

* * *

My body jerked awake, pulled out of its state of slumber by my own screams. I pulled my knees about me, allowing tears to drip down my face, landing silently on the sheets surrounding me.

"Tucker?" My head snapped up, I had forgotten Danny was staying the night, "you alright?" His voice was sleep-laden and crackly from lack of use. Looking over, I met his eyes, each was glowing an ever so faint green, allowing him to see in the darkened room. I had long ago become accustom to his lifeless eyes, his white hair, and pale skin. Just as much as my own dark skin and brown eyes, they were normal. They haunted me no more.

I wiped my eyes, "Fine, just a bad dream."

"Oh," He pulled himself up to an elbow, "Want to talk about it?" I flashed him a smile, shaking my head. This was only for me to know, Danny had his own problems. My trauma was mine alone.

"Go back to bed, Danny." I was barley above a whisper but he seemed to understand, flipping over so that his back was to me. The halfa was very accustomed to me waking up screaming or crying. He never pushed the matter further.

Carefully I lay myself down, pulling the sheets over my head to block out any light. The room returned to silence, and I closed my eyes. Though through the darkness, the screams of a dying friend echoed about my head, haunting me, years after the physical vibrations had stilled.

* * *

August 20, 2010  
Leave a review, make my day!  
Thanks for reading!


	4. Séance

Séance

**A Danny Phantom Fanfiction**

"Come on, Danny!" I begged for at least the fifth time that night, "What harm could it do?" I watched in frustration as the stubborn black haired boy crossed his arms defiantly.

"No." A smile graced my lips. His voice lacked the forcefulness it had the first time I had suggested the idea, "I'm telling you, it's a bad idea." My smile grew into an almost evil grin, he was faltering, falling into my grasp.

"But it's wilderness camp," I wined, making sure to add in a bit of exaggerated disappointment into my tone, "Wilderness camp, I might add, that we were all forced into. We have to do something interesting while we're out here other than pick berries."

"Besides," another kid piped up, thankfully on my side, "Aren't you from Amity Park, that haunted town up north? Don't you do this kind of stuff all the time?" The boy gave me a thumbs up after completing his speech. I returned the gesture even though it kind of detracted from the impact of his point.

"No." There was that darn 'no' again, I was really starting to hate that word, "I tend to say as far away from ghosts as possible. They're not exactly the friendliest and summoning one isn't exactly bright.

"Danny, Danny, Danny," I clucked my tongue in a disappointed manner, "When will you understand. That is exactly the reason that we should do this. It's a great experience with supernatural, plus if anything goes wrong we have you, the son of two world renowned ghost hunters. Nothing will happen." Yet again he opened his mouth to refuse, but this time I was ready. "You're not afraid are you?" His eyes narrowed. Hook, line and sinker. "The son of two ghost _hunters_ isn't afraid of a wee little ghost, is he?" The others around me seemed to catch on, playing their part by flapping their arms about like the wings of a chicken. Danny's face turned slightly red.

"Fine," He muttered after a moment. I was about to jump up in a victory dance when he spoke again, "but we have to do things my way, take some precautions and be ready just in case." We all nodded, having expected this from the beginning. "Good, I'll get the ghost hunting gear my parents forced me to bring and you go get what ever you'll need for this stupid séance." Immediately everyone was up, running to their cabins to grab what ever candles and other supplies they could find. In the mean time I began clearing a spot on the ground, molding the dirt into as flat a surface I could with what little night light I had.

Looking up I realized everyone else was having just as much difficulty in the dark as I was. Most were tripping over logs and several had made their way to the wrong cabin. That is everyone except Danny. Speaking of supernatural, that kid seemed to be just that. He had a strange habit of disappearing into thin air then coming up with half assed excuses as to why he had left in the first place. Disregarding the fact that he seemed to be able to see in the dark like it was day, he had many other strange qualities about him, such as the constant chills he got. Now that I think of it, the room temperature did seem to drop a little whenever he entered.

I jumped as a large pile of metallic equipment was dropped beside me. The smirk on Danny's face as he sat down next to me told me that he had thoroughly enjoyed that. I simply gave him a forced smile. He was a nice guy but seemed to be getting on my nerves a little tonight.

"Alright, Kent," I raised an eyebrow as he shoved a small gun like object into my hands, "Let me show you how to use these. They're called ecto-weapons. They are designed especially to hurt a ghost. Just like any other gun, just aim and pull the trigger."

I laughed, pay back time, "So if they're meant for ghosts, that means they can't harm humans." I lifted the barrel of the weapon so that it was aimed at Danny, fully intending to give him a face full of goo.

He jumped back with almost super human reflexes, "Watch were you're pointing that thing!" I frowned, maybe they could hurt humans. Oh well, best to not risk it.

Glancing over my shoulder I could see all the other campers returning. Once they reached the sight I had cleared we began our work, Danny explaining the best way to set up the ceremony and us placing candles where ever he motioned to do so. It took a while, since the objects kept falling over on the uneven ground, but eventually we conquered it. With the circle set up we all took a step back, placing our hands in one and other's, forming a ring of humans. I happened to be holding Danny's hand. Oddly this made me feel much safer. My nerves were rising despite the ecto gun sitting at my heels.

Then we began to chant, letting the words Danny had taught us blend into a slur. Slowly the clearing grew colder and light seemed to be pulled into the flames of the candle, dulling the moon and stars above us. The noise of the forest dimmed, so that all that could be heard was the quiet whisper of our voices and the silence that surrounded us.

Suddenly I felt Danny's hand tighten his grip on mine. He wasn't frightened was he? I chanced a glance in his direction. I gasped. He was shaking violently, his whole body tensing up. I could see sweat running down his face, even in the dim light. Though I oddest thing was that he appeared to be glowing ever so slightly.

The chants were drawing to their final chorus. I was considering stopping the whole thing to make sure the boy at my side wasn't about hyperventilate when, just as quickly as they had started, his spasms stopped. Then I heard the gasps.

My head bolted up, catching sight of the children around me backing away. In the center of the circle stood, or more accurately, floated a young boy. His body hung limp as he spun in slow circles as if held up by a string. I could see right through his form to the terrified face of another camper. I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.

Desperately, as one, we turned to face Danny, begging to know what to do. He was gone. Not even foot prints remained where he once stood. I looked around desperately until my sight fell upon the gun resting on the ground behind me. I snatched it up, raising it to point directly at the ghost's lolling head. Just then, it moved, twitching slightly. It's eyes jerked open, it's head rose like that of a puppet's. It's eyes bore into mine, but instead of the utter hatred and evil I was expecting, I saw fear, sorrow, and remorse.

I don't know why I did it, I think my finger slipped but as those eyes glanced into mine, I realized they were Danny's eyes. And I fired.

December 20, 2010

Thanks for reading


	5. Tracks

Tracks

A Danny Phantom Fanfiction

* * *

Pain. That's all I knew, all I had ever known. It throbbed through my mind, dulling the world around me. Though, it never seemed to be considerate enough to spread itself to my physical body. I had to do that myself. Even the physical pain, though it dulled the mental one, couldn't quell the acid that drilled into my heart and sole.

It was no wonder I tended to stray from reality. Instead I engulfed myself in my own world, one where I was loved, and no one could ever hurt me. Though life had a way of catching up to me, of making itself know: one forgotten birthday, one snicker in the hall way in my direction, one friend lost. Suddenly One turned into ten, then twenty, then hundreds; leaving me alone with no one to explain to me what I had done wrong.

The loneliness was the worst. I could take jibes and insults. I could except that I was a freak, that I was ugly, a know it all, a coward… but I couldn't do it alone.

At first I had dismissed the insults and tauntings as childish and false. But eventually they ground their way into my thoughts. With each day, each statement, my defense cracked a little more. When the walls fell each childish jib became reality, truth. By the end of it I knew I was a coward, I knew I was wrong and with all my heart, I knew I was a freak, an outcast, a loser nobody wanted. So I had incased myself into a world were I was beautiful, were I was loved, and most of all, I wasn't alone.

However hard I tried to make my reality truth, I couldn't. One can only endure torture for so long. It had to end… And so it would.

* * *

Sharp rocks cut into the flesh of my feet. Pin pricks: that's all they were. No matter how much blood they drew it would never be enough. Nothing short of death could end my pain.

My mind barley registered the shift in the ground, changing from rough gravel to cold slick metal. My body acted on it's own, crossing my legs for me and gently setting me on the ground. I'm not sure when my eyes had opened, but I found myself staring off into the distance, following the strait path the train tracks. This is how I had always pictured death: walking calmly down a set of tracks into the sunrise. Only it was still night and no heaven awaited me at the end of my journey, only an old train and the end to my suffering.

Somehow, within the knowledge that the end was near, I found peace. My body relaxed and a chilling warmth came over me. My fears were gone, replaced by a nothingness. I was alone, but this time happily. I was where I could never be harmed or forgotten. For the blackness that consumed me could not even remember, much less forget. It could not hurt me. It simply was. So I simply was.

Deep into the nothing I felt something stir. Something broke my peace, shattering my world and pulling me a little further into the light. Slowly it approached, its eyes, though I could not see them, bore into me. It pushed and prodded, making it harder and harder to ignore. Unable to resist any longer, my eyes snapped open. Two shimmering green orbs met my gaze.

"What?" I breathed, annoyance dripping from my voice. What could be so important that they dared to pull me from my silence?

The eyes blinked, pulling back to reveal the face of a young girl, roughly my age. Her skin was a bleak grey, her hair a brilliant orange. The fact that I could still see the mountains behind her although she obstructed my view would have startled me any other day. However ghosts were a common thing in this town.

"There are other ways, you know," Her voice echoed slightly in the distance, as if many of the same being were speaking at once. I blinked. Other ways of what? Killing myself? Sure, I had reviewed them all; this one had seemed the most practical. I could spout some psychological reason for my choosing this place, this way but I wouldn't. It didn't really matter.

"You don't have to do this," I closed my eyes, trying to wish her away, "There are other ways out."

"Bug off," I spat, my anger growing with every passing second. She was going to make my last moments on earth horrible.

"You're making a bad decision." My eyes snapped back open, blazing with anger.

"What the hell do you know?" My fists clenched and unclenched, digging my finger nails deeper into my palms each time.

She sighed, gently coming to rest before me, her crossed legs still hovering slightly above the ground. "I know enough to tell you that it won't end the pain."

Denial ran through me, "Death will end anything, even a heartbeat, even suffering." She shook her head sadly. Looking down to her wrists she showed them to me. Deep scars ran up and down them, overlapping and twisting up her arms. Shakily glancing down at my own arms I found them to be the same.

"It's an odd feeling," she pulled her hands away, tucking them back into her lap, "being hit by a train."

My eyes widened, and for the first time that night I truly looked at her. The cotton dress that hung over her slight frame was riddled with holes and tears. It was impossible to tell the color though the dirt and blood that covered it. Her skin, though pale with death and slightly shimmering, was covered in bruises and though they had healed it way easy to see her oddly shaped limbs had been shattered.

"Having to relive that pain, that is more agony than one could possibly find in life." She shuttered, "Believe me, this isn't what you want." All I could do was stare. This being acted as if she knew me, knew my pain, my desires. She was wrong, after all she was just a ghost; only a mindless blob of malevolent energy, nothing but an imprint of a once living soul. What could she possibly know of human troubles, human pain?

Yet something deep inside told me otherwise, pulling at my conscience, begging me to listen. Perhaps it was me denying me parents yet again, rebelling in some silent belief. They never believed a ghost could feel. I didn't want to. I knew I was right to be doing this. I knew it. It wasn't fair for me to suffer in such a manner.

"It's not like I would be missed," I knew I was only reasoning with myself, no matter how true the statement. Then the oddest thing happened that actually caused me to jump: the ghost began to laugh. It was only a soft chuckle but it was riddled with sadness.

"Funny," She giggled, covering her smirk with her hand, "that's what I told myself." My heart dropped further, "You should have seen my funeral. My parents must have cried for days." Maybe…. My mind drifted with the thought. I shook my head. That was her, not me. My parents would never notice me, they had more important things to think about.

"Yeah, but-" she cut me off, placing a chilled hand over my mouth.

"When you come home, is there dinner waiting for you on the table?" I could only wait, barley breathing, waiting for her to continue, "When you get up in the morning, is some one not there to wish you a good day at school? When you're sick, doesn't someone stay with you to take care of you and make sure you're alright? At school isn't a place waiting for you at the lunch table, aren't your papers graded with the utmost care? Don't your parents tell you 'good night' when you go off to bed? Don't they tell you they love you?" My jaw opened and closed, never allowing sound to escape. "Do you really want to hurt all those people?"

The ghost swiveled her head to look at the tracks behind her, her matted hair flopping lazily to her other shoulder. "The train's coming soon," She muttered, glancing back at me, "You better make a decision." After a moment of simply watching me stare at her she spoke again, "The life of a ghost isn't what you want."

I don't remember getting up. I don't remember finding my way home. All I know is that I awoke in my own bed, not knowing if what I had seen was a dream or not. Only after finding a lone gravestone among the fields near the tracks did I understand that it that been a ghost that had saved my life. She pushed me towards a renewed purpose, doing what she had done for me for others: Saving lives.

* * *

Ten Years Later:

The tracks were deserted as they always were this late at night. Stepping quietly over the tracks I set myself down in an all too familiar place. Both regret and peace washed over me as the memories flooded back from that fateful day.

Suddenly she was there, sitting in front of me.

"Didn't I get rid of you? You're not back to try again are you?" She tilted her head questioningly. I shook mine.

"I'm here to say thank you. You saved so much more than my life." She had. She had saved my family the pain of loosing their only daughter; she had saved me from an eternity of pain and regret, of having to relive my mistake.

The ghost shook her head, "No, thank you." I looked at her confused, "You saved me." Her hands swept down to her body, motioning me to look, so I did.

The bruises I so clearly remembered were gone. The dirt and blood had faded to reveal a white dress, laced with black flowers. Her hair was curled around her face, framed by a familiar purple head band, instead of matted to her back. In truth, she was beautiful, even for a ghost. It was like looking in to a mirror, even though I knew that impossible.

Suddenly she looked up, glancing behind her, then back to me. "You better go, the train is coming." She sensed my hesitation, "Don't worry," despite her smile, tear lay in her eyes, "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Then she was gone, and in a daze I stood. Halfway back to my car I glanced back to the tracks. A faint glimmer rippled in the air. Whispering my thanks I turned to head back to the life she had given me so many years ago.

* * *

An observer standing in the background scoffed. "Was that really necessary?"

Slowly he turned to face the being, his form shifting once again, aging backwards. "It is sometimes best to learn a lesson from ourselves, even if we don't believe they are us." Observers where not always the brightest beings. This one, however, seemed to miss the point completely.

"Was it necessary to save such a worthless girl?" He waved his hands about as if to emphasize his point, "She plays no large role in the universe. Why keep her at all?" The ghost sighed. The observers would never learn. Each act preludes another, each act of a single individual forces time down a different path. It is all connected.

"She has a larger role then you would think."

He huffed, making to leave before he stopped. Another question lingered at the edge of his mind. Of course the other already knew what he would ask.

"The ghost zone exists in no set time. It fluctuates from past to present to future in a single moment. A ghost can choose to reside in any time they wish. Thus time paradoxes are formed. What has yet to happened may have already here. So, perhaps, by influence of future beings and events, the past that resulted in such ghosts and decisions may never occur. Said ghost will still continue to exist, however, as a product of the paradox." He didn't believe the observe completely understood. But that's what they did, they observed. They didn't understand any of it, they just watched. A few would strive, but none would succeed. They didn't have to, it wasn't their job, after all.

"Besides," He whispered, almost to himself, the medallion hanging from his neck slowly swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, "She can not leave, her brother still needs her."

* * *

August 9, 2010

Death is never the way out.

Thanks for reading.


	6. Unraveling Time

I wrote this four times untill I finally gave up and went back to the orriginal. It's rather short for that reason.  
Also I am going to start putting ratings at the start of each story along with the genre.

_Genre: _Horror, Tragedy, Angst.  
_Rating: _T

* * *

**Unraveling Time**

A Danny Phantom Fanfiction

Time ticks forward in its perpetual motion. Ever flowing, ever changing. For a moment; Then it stops. Simply because he willed it to stop. With a single flick of his mind, anything and everything changes. He willed the time stream to pause, rewind, repeat, and then continue. And so it does. Over and over again. Forever he shall walk among a frozen world. And when he wishes it so, frame by frame, eternity moves on.

Time is a powerful thing. It limits everything, gives life a limit to how long it can live. Even those supposedly blessed with eternity have a set point when, for them, time will stop, and they will cease to exist. Even ghosts can die. Eternity can not go on forever. Except for one; for him. For Clockwork, time is endless, he can do with it as he pleases. Eternity is a concept only he can grasp. And so with that eternity he watches the world grow, change and die. Again and again.

Pause. Rewind. Repeat.

Each turn of the clock he sees something different. Each replay reveals a detail he missed the first or thousandth time through. Once, he notices a child's sleepy smile, as her grandfather reads her a bed time story. Another time, he sees the boy doubled over laughing, frozen until he wills the boy to continue. A third instance, the pain of loss crosses a woman's face as she kneels at her fallen son's grave. He has forever to walk among them, to see their joy, their sorrow, pain, fear, hatred. To see their love.

It seems, both humans and ghosts will never cease to amaze him. So powerful are their emotions, their friendships, their bonds, that he longs for them as well. He walks among the living, the dead and all that lies between, without ever touching any aspect of life itself. He can see all that goes on, and yet can feel no pain as he watches a child die in some pointless war. No joy reaches his stilled heart at the sight of a new born child. But more than anything, he has never loved. And knows he never will.

So he simply continues to watch.

Pause. Rewind. Repeat.

At the dawn of time he finds himself indifferent to the world.

_A man holds his wife gently in his arms, loving her more than life itself. _

Jealousy fights its way into his mind. He longs for what he knows he can not have.

_A new mother looks upon her child. Her smile is unlike anything he has ever seen. _

In the manner that a sunny day turns into a fierce storm, his jealously turns to hatred. Dark brooding clouds fog his mind. The order he once instilled upon the world is verging on collapse. His every thought is filled with hate. Hate for the family and life he can never have. For he alone exists outside of time, neither human nor a true ghost. He is much more omnipotent than they.

_Children pick flowers, knowing how proud their mother will be of them when they present her such a bouquet. _

Insanity. An eternity of watching the world go by will eventually wear at ones mind. One can only take so much. He too eventually breaks. And thus, time unravels.

No longer is there a definite line where one moment ends and another begins. Time no longer flows forward. It flows back and around and under and sideways. Each, both human and ghost, exists within their own time line, their own pocket of space. All joy, all love, is gone from the world. Chaos takes its place.

Wars are fought countless times over, a never ending stream of suffering. People, once burnt in terrible fires are restored, only to burn again and again. Ancient monsters plague the earth during the World Wars. Children are brought into existence long before their mothers, doming them to a life equivalent to death. People watch their siblings and children grow old and die before they ever have the chance learn to walk. Time splits, creating a multiverse of sorts. Every conceivable path is take all in a single moment of crumbling time. And so the universe unravels as well.

But the funny thing about the universe is that it always seems to have a way of righting itself. And so the chaos stops. Whether it lasted a millennia or only seconds, none can say. Slowly the time stream is repaired and with it, its keeper. He is pulled back together bit by bit until he is whole once again.

And time begins again.

This time he shall see something different, like he always has. Perhaps this time it will be right something. That little bit of knowledge that holds him together. Perhaps, this time, it will show itself. Until then, however, he must exist for all eternity, waiting for the inevitable to come once again.

Pause. Rewind. Repeat.

* * *

March 29, 2011


	7. To Say Goodbye

**To Say Goodbye  
**A Danny Phantom Fanfiction

* * *

_A journal, old and worn, lies in your hands, unearthed after millennia of being buried beneath feet of dirt. The pages are frail and the leather cover has been mostly eaten away by time. The script inside is faint, but legible. With the care you were trained to use as an archeologist, you open the journal to the first page._

**February 25th **

I remember the date. January 8th, 2006. Everything else is a blur. Sometimes in my sleep I can catch glimpse of that winter morning, but when I wake up, it's gone. Karen, the therapist my parents are forcing me to see, says that's normal. Not that I really trust her opinion. She's a stuffy person, nosey too. She smiles too much, and her laugh sounds like an elephant is sitting on her chest, short and raspy. Still, I suppose she's the expert on the matter. Not that she really knows, not that anyone really knows.

I started seeing her two weeks after the accident, if you could call it that. We've talked, or more I've talked, and still the memory is just a blur. I'm not sure I want to remember, but Karen says it will help me move on. Sam's been keeping a journal and says it's helped, so why not give it a try. I'll write down what I can remember, if I can that is.

**February 28****th**

I had a dream last night. It could have been a dream or a memory, I'm not sure. There was a green flash, and then nothingness. I could smell blood. Lots of it. It coated my hands and my shirt and I knew some had splattered on my face, even though I couldn't feel it. The dream didn't last long. Mom heard me crying and woke me up. I wish she hadn't. They say you only remember interrupted dreams, never completed ones.

I've taken three showers today alone, but no matter what I do, I can't get the feeling of blood off my hands.

**March 5th**

Sam had a breakdown in the middle of class this morning. She couldn't stop crying, no matter what anyone did, she wouldn't stop crying. When she left I picked up her stuff for her. I've never seen anything like it. The paper she'd been writing on was covered in repeating numbers: 010826. It's the date, I know it is.

I feel bad for Sam, I honestly do, but it's good to know that I'm not the only one struggling.

**March 7th**

I had the courage to come clean to my parents today. We sat down and I told them everything. They were surprisingly accepting, despite being appalled at how dangerous of a life I led. I told then I planned on continuing fighting ghosts, despite the loss of my best friend. It was my job now, Sam and my's job. No one else has the experience to do it, so it still falls to us. Anyway, we'd be failing him if we quite now.

My parents understood. Though I can't help being afraid that I'm making a bad decision. I don't want to lose Sam as well.

**March 12th**

They say memories can sneak up on you in places you'd never expect them to. They're right. I never thought lunch could remind me of him. But it did. I think it was the mystery meat. One moment I was eating my lunch, the next I was standing back in that snow covered field. We'd been out for target practice. The lab was off limits that day and we'd found a good hiding place on the edge of Amity with plenty of room to roam, so we spent the day firing off weapons and shattering clay pigeons. It was well after noon when the air had grown heavy and we knew something was wrong. I still can't remember what happened after that.

When I pulled myself back to reality Sam was giving me a funny look. I told her I was fine and made up some stupid excuse. She says she's okay now but I don't want to trigger another breakdown. It was too much to see her like that.

**March 13th**

We got back into ghost hunting today. Nothing big. Just the box ghost, an easy fight, even with one member of the team missing. In all honesty, back then, any one of us could have handled him alone, but now were so rattled that it took an enormous amount of effort to even face him. It was nothing but routine that cost us his life, after all.

Mom says it will get better, and I believe her. It's just… I'm so lost.

**March 16th**

It's pathetic. I can't even say his name anymore without bursting into tears. It's been over two months and still I can't go a day without breaking down. Karen says it's amazing how well I'm holding up. She claims that most people wouldn't even be able to get out of bed in the morning after what I'd seen. Maybe she'd think differently if she could see me at night, when I'm alone. I can't sleep without the light on and even then nightmares plague my every dream.

**March 25th**

Clay pigeons, clay pigeons, clay pigeons. It was all because I had found some stupid clay pigeons in my dads office and wanted to try them out.

**March 27th**

The beaten,  
The hurt,  
The lifeless,  
The sad.

Downtrodden,  
Inert,  
blameless,  
yet bad.

The bully,  
The evil,  
The hate  
And the love.

The beastly,  
The dismal,  
Their fate,  
Their beloved.

The dead,  
And the dying,  
The ones left behind.  
And the things they aren't saying,  
In this dark state of mind.

**April 2d**

Skulker. I remember it was Skulker.

**April 3d**

Happy Birthday.

**April 7th**

It'll be two month to the day tomorrow. Sam wants me to come with her to visit his grave. I haven't since the funeral, I haven't felt strong enough. And I still don't think I can.

**April 8th**

I tried, I honestly did. Sam and I walked all the way to the cemetery together, talking about meaningless things. The line "some weather we're having" just pisses me off every time I hear it. "Yeah, it's sunny for the fifth day in a row, woop-dee-doo." When we reached the front entrance, I couldn't get up the courage to go inside. I don't deserve to see him, after all. It was my fault. I may not remember much, but I do know that if I hadn't sat there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot, his blood coving my face and hands, he'd still be here. If I'd just been a little faster, just a little braver, he'd still be alive.

I sat outside the entrance to the cemetery and cried. It felt good to know I wasn't alone when an elderly woman sat by me, holding flowers for a deceased loved one, and cried right along with me. We never said a word to each other, we just sat and cried. After a while Sam came back and the woman just patted my back and left. It's amazing, what complete strangers will do for one and other.

**April 12th**

We found his journal. There was a letter tucked away in the back for each of us: Sam and I, along with the rest of his family. He'd even wrote a letter for Lancer. I haven't read mine yet. I'm too scared.

**April 16th**

I'm sorry, Danny. I'm so sorry.

**April 17th**

_A letter, so wrinkled and warn that it is obvious it has been folded upon itself hundreds of times, stands in place of a journal entry, tapped down to the page. _

Dear Tucker,

If you're reading this than I'm most likely dead. I don't know the circumstances of what happened, but please don't feel guilty. I expected this. In our line of work you can't expect to live forever, you can't expect to win every battle. It's not your fault. No matter what happened I'm sure you did your best. Knowing you, there was nothing else you could have done.

I wanted to say thank you. You're the one friend that I have always been able to count on, the one person that, throughout my life, has always stood at my back. Ever since the accident I've come to believe that no matter what happens you will always have my back. So, thank you. And I hope, desperately, that I can live up to your expectations of me. I know you don't expect me to be perfect, but I hope I at least made it look like I was trying. It's hard, living this life, but it's a little easier knowing that I have friends like you to back me up.

If you're reading this and I'm gone, then please, keep living. For me, for Sam. She'll need you and you'll need her. Live life, I know you'll go far. As for ghost fighting, I'll leave it up to you. There is no obligation, despite what I know you think, for you to fight ghosts in any way. You're not the one that's already half dead.

Tuck, I am sorry. So very sorry.

Your best friend,

Danny Fenton/Phantom

P.S. It was me that painted your trumpet case pink in the sixth grade, not Mikey, sorry.

**April 21st**

I finally convinced my parents to let me stop seeing Karen. She wasn't doing much to help, but in return I had to agree to be put on anti-depressants. I don't like them very much, they make my head foggy and my skin tingle. The doctor says that will go away, but the scariest part is that if I'm not happy I don't feel anything. Instead of feeling sad, I simply feel blank. Sam says I'm not me when I take them, not that I've really been myself much anyway.

**April 23d **

In the depth of the night, by an old hollowed tree, an owl stirs. The creature struggles violently against the chains binding it's body. But to no avail. Even if he was to escape it would do him no good. His wings have been clipped and his beak sown shut. Such is his fate, to remain a prisoner, a captive, within the dark.

Mice no longer fear him. They crawl about upon his stilled form, knowing full well that he can do them no harm. The creatures he once laughed at from above now claw at his eyes and tear the feathers from his skin. Oh, what innocence he had in those days when he simply believed that no beast so small, so powerless, could harm him. And now it is they, his prey, which tear into his very life.

**May 1st**

It was a rather regular day today. Class was rather dull, but Dash hadn't shoved me in my locker since Danny died, so that was a plus. He seems to have finally gotten sick of pitying me. I have to admit that it felt rather nice, familiar, to spend an hour jammed in my locker before a teacher let me out.

I didn't cry once today either, which is a plus as well. Though I can't tell if that's the medicine or just the fact that I'm getting better. I feel guilty, moving on, but I also know it's what Danny would have wanted. I've slept through the night for the past two days without nightmares as well. I have to admit, when I first started taking the medicine I felt ashamed for not being able to solve my own problems. I guess I just needed some help.

**May 3d**

Sam laughed today. I couldn't help but cry at her for it.

**May 4th**

I went and saw Danny. I talked to him for a while. It felt good.

**May 10th**

Sam's sick this week. Some common cold. I'm sure she'll be fine, but I can't help but worry. She's all I have left.

**May 21st**

The town's begun to wonders what's happen to Danny Phantom. Lancer's already linked Fenton to Phantom. He said he had before we found Danny's letter, which explained everything to him.

Sam and I are debating whether or not to tell the town just who Phantom was. His family has left it up to us, seeing as we were the ones he trusted with his secret. We both want every one to know the hero he was but at the same time it almost feels like we're betraying him.

**May 24th**

It came back so fast. I was fine, then suddenly I remembered everything and could do nothing but cry.

It'd been Skulker, I already knew that much. We'd been practicing our aim with the Fenton blasters when he showed up. Danny'd put up a good fight, Sam and I help in what ever way we could but for some reason he was stronger that day, stronger then ever. Instead of targeting Danny like he always had, he went after Sam and I. I remember getting hit in the side but dodging most of his blows. But when I hadn't been quick enough to react, Danny jumped in the way. God, there was so much ectoplasm. When he'd changed back was when things got bad. It wasn't just a gash in his side, it was a hole through his middle. By the time the ambulance got there, he was already dead. I watched the light leave his eyes and his body go limp.

I'm sorry, Danny, but no matter what you say, it was my fault.

**May 28th**

Ms. Fenton called me today. We talked for a while and I ended up coming over and having lunch with her. I told her how everything happened. She cried a lot but agreed with Danny in the end. It wasn't my fault. It's still hard to believe her. I'm just glad she's doing alright.

**June 5th**

We've come to a decision. On the sixth month mark, June 8th, Sam and I are going to reveal just who Danny Phantom was to the town. We've already arranged a town meeting and secured several interviews. We honestly have no desire for the fame but Danny deserves this. He was a hero that gave not only his life but his soul to protecting this town. The town deserves to know and Danny deserves to be recognized.

We have his parents full support. Even Sam's parents are pitching in. They still believe that Danny was a bad influence, but at least they understand that this is important to Sam.

**June 9th**

I was so exhausted that I forgot to write yesterday. It was hectic. Luckily the town seemed to believe us for the most part. We had some pretty convincing evidence, after all. Once we explained the situation we were bombarded by questions. They asked everything ranging from stories of his life to what kind of socks he wore. Some of the questions were difficult to answer, but it felt good to get it all out, you know?

The town's decided to put up a statue in his honor in the park. They have one of Amity's best sculptors creating the design and Sam and I get to look it over before they start building. The ideas the man already has are amazing. I can't wait until he gets the design done.

Valerie seemed a little sullen yesterday. We gave her the letter Danny wrote to her but I think it will take a while for her to accept the whole thing. Hell, I was there when it happened and it still took me weeks to accept that Danny was part ghost. We've decided to back off and give her some time. No one's going to force her to do anything. All we're asking is that she understand just who and what Danny was.

**June 11th**

If only he hadn't been so God Damn stupid and just let me take the hit. I should be the one buried beneath feet of dirt, not Danny.

**June 20th**

The designs for the sculpture are finally done. Sam and I didn't have much to change except making his face look a little less all powerful and a little more like the fifteen year old kid he was. It's funny to think that Danny was only fifteen when he died and will remain fifteen forever, whether as a ghost (which we're not certain he is) or in people's memories, when Sam and I have both already turned sixteen. The statues construction starts next week, once a plot of ground is cleared out.

Sam realized something yesterday. We never returned the infi-map to frostbite from when we used it last fall. It would be so simple to open it up, say "take us to Danny" and know for certain if he remained a ghost or not. People all over town have claimed that they've seen him sitting at his own grave, but I don't really believe them. It's almost painful to think that he'd want to remain in the Ghost Zone for all eternity, surrounded by enemies, if he had even the slightest chance of moving on. Though if he did have that chance or not, we don't know. It could be completely possible that due to being half ghost already, Danny is forever tied to the Ghost Zone. We don't have any real way of finding out unless we were to use the map. Which in all honesty, I don't think Sam or I'm ready to do just yet.

**July 4th**

The fireworks weren't the same without Danny flying up and letting off a few of his own.

**July 30th**

We tried the map. Nothing. He's gone.

After what seemed like an eternity of simply staring at the map, both Sam and I sat down and cried. His family was there too. Jazz cried with us. His parents took a little longer to comprehend the situation, but in the end, they had to leave the room. It's a relief, knowing he's truly moved on and isn't sitting out in that endless nothing for all eternity. And yet, I'm disappointed. If he's gone, I can never tell him what he meant to everyone. Can never say thank you.

**August 10th**

I've decided to move on. Danny did, it's my turn. If he had the strength to leave knowing he'd never see any of us again, then I need to have the strength to remove this God Damn blame from my shoulders. It wasn't my fault. I did what I could. Danny knew what would happen and he protected me anyway. Danny doesn't deserve to be remembered the way I've been remembering him. I've been mad at him, so mad. I've done nothing but cry. It's time to remember him as the hero, friend and son he was, not just the way he died.

Tomorrow I'm moving on. But today, today I'll remember, and morn for the last time.

**January 8th, 2007**

I saw him today. Not his head stone, or in a dream. I truly saw him. He wasn't a ghost, or human, he just was. He smiled, and vanished.

At least we know now that he's happy, and that he's always been watching over us. Maybe that's why there's been so few ghost to hunt.

**April 11th**

I'm going to burry this journal with Danny. Now that I know he comes by the grave I know that he'll see it.

We love you Danny. I hope you know just how much we all miss you. And thank you, so very much.

_ Picture after picture is taped into the journal. They document not only life with Daniel Fenton but life after Danny as well. Many pictures of Phantom are pasted into the pages as well. _

_ On the last page is a more recent photo which shows Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson standing around the statue of Danny Phantom in Amity Park. Both are smiling. _

_ This is what you've been looking for years: proof that the alleged hero, Danny Phantom, actually existed. Looking around you find that the statue shown in the journal is long gone. Two thousand years tends to do that. With one last heart felt glance you place the journal in a padded box. In that moment a shiver runs up your spin and you can't help but smile. _

_ "Thank you, Danny." You whisper into the silence._

* * *

05 November 2011


End file.
